I know I haven't been the world's most active cineblogger, but that's what comes from actually trying to make your own movie. Anyway, as there's been very little to involve me lately on a film-fan level (I have yet to see a single solitary summer movie; I just can't muster up the energy) apart from buying that fan-fucking-tabulous Criterion DVD of Mr. Arkadin, I thought I'd at least throw in my two pesos on Mel Gibson's flamboyant act of career suicide.
A wise chappy once said that alcohol doesn't put words in your mouth, it lets the words that are in your brain come out of your mouth. Gibson's "I'm not an anti-Semite" apology, even in the longer director's cut version, will only seem sincere to people who think Lindsay Lohan means it when she says it really, truly, honestly, I-swear-to-god isn't all-night partying and cocaine binges that's made her so creepily thin. Gibson's mea culpa is, I'm sorry to say, just like those of any public figure caught out in an embarrassing situation involving them being themselves. It's solely in aid of image rehabilitation, not rehabilitation of any other (read: sincere) kind.
Back in the day, I was a Mel Gibson fan as part of my usual geek repertoire. He was Mad Max, which was the most important thing, and also Martin Riggs, though to be honest I've never been that big a fan of the Lethal Weapon franchise. I was even pretty impressed with his Hamlet. But in recent years, culminating in that wretched Jesus movie, too many aspects of his personality that are, ahem, less than pleasant (say, his sexism, homophobia, and "not an anti-Semite" anti-Semitism) have really turned me off to him. Shame. The guy could have saved it all had the Mad Max 4 project ever gotten off the ground, too.
So, yeah, if I needed any more reason not to care about Mel Gibson any more, I guess I got one.